Today
by Morte Rouge
Summary: Some thoughts aren't so easy to put off until tomorrow. Part of a book report I just completed, which I hope will help me get back into FFN, having been gone for personal reasons. One shot.


Scarlett wanted to throw off the arms touching her—always either Charles' elbow under her gloved hand and prodding her in the side, or Melanie's soft round arm about her waist—and scream "Mother of God!" in her best imitation of Gerald. But no. Smile at the guests, say "Thank you" in a soft demure voice to the well-wishers, squeeze Charles's arm softly from time to time and express your devotion with your eyes, respond civilly to Melanie's affectionate overtures—don't claw her eyes out, for goodness' sakes.

Oh, but she wanted to. She wanted to, with a want bordering on instinct. She wanted to pull great tufts of Melanie's wild dark hair from her scalp, gouge her big round eyes out, claw at her sallow skin until it ran red with blood. And she would laugh as she did it. She could and would.

No, she couldn't.

Not because it was unchristian of her to do, let alone think. Not because of the shock, even horror, that would change Ellen's sweet, loving face. Not even because of what people would say to see Scarlett pounce on Melanie—and Scarlett suspected that they would have seen, or at least said they had seen it coming. The sole person holding her back was the man who held Melanie's hand in the crook of his elbow as Charles held Scarlett's. Ashley!

Ashley with his drowsy eyes and languid smile, Ashley who meant more to her than all of the silly stupid people—excepting Ellen and, well, Gerald too—crowded under the roof of Tara, large mansion though it was. Ashley who would be even more horrified than Ellen, to see Scarlett turn into a monster before everyone and attack Melanie!

It wasn't exactly because it would hurt Ashley to see her do it, and therefore hurt her, Scarlett, that Scarlett was deterred—she was not that selfless, goodness no! No, it was because—it _would_ hurt Ashley terribly, even if only because Melanie was his cousin who he did not really love and then—maybe—maybe—

Supposing Ashley wouldn't love her anymore if he knew just how much she hated Melanie! Oh, it wasn't even a supposition—it would really happen! He had gotten upset with her for calling Melly "mealy-mouthed," imagine what he'd think if she proved her hatred literally!

Pork passed by with a tray of mint julep tumblers, and Scarlett snagged a tumbler smoothly, tilting her head back almost but not quite enough to make the cool, refreshing minty beverage slide over her face as well as her tongue. Straightening her neck and well as her back, she banished, or tried to banish, all thoughts of leaping on her future sister-in-law like the feral cat that had attacked Prissy yesterday ("Good for the cat," Scarlett thought). For the florid face of Gerald loomed before her as it had a week ago: "I'm glad there's pride in you, Puss," he'd frowned, shaking his riding crop at her. "And I want to see pride in you, for I'll not be having the County gossiping and laughing at you for mooning your heart out about a man who never gave you a thought beyond friendship." No, she'd not have the County gossiping about her (more than it did already), either.

She knew she could bring Ashley around—if only she had a moment alone with him—and if only he'd let her. But so far that goose of a Melanie had been hanging onto his arm and following him around like a lovesick puppy and Scarlett had only another week until her marriage to try and get Ashley alone! And even supposing she could, it was very likely that his sense of duty and honor, which meant marrying Melanie because it was expected of him, would not let him listen to her. Those Wilkeses were so sophisticated to be around but they were so frustrating when it came to things like honor and duty! What did honor and duty matter when your heart broke under them?!

But the julep was cool in Scarlett's parched mouth and her impassioned bosom, and as usual when the queerness of the Wilkeses arose in her mind she put it from her thoughts as a mystery of life. She'd convince Ashley. And if not, well, marrying Charles would just show Ashley she didn't care. She'd show Gerald and Ashley and—and that horrid Butler man—and everybody else, for that matter, that she had pride in her yet. Or else, safe in Ashley's arms, she would be too happy to care about her pride.

Ugh, she'd go crazy if she thought about Ashley for one more minute right now. Scarlett would think about it tomorrow, when Mammy was draping the pretty white satin wedding dress over Scarlett for a final fit. Her mind would be free to wander and Mammy would be too distracted by Scarlett's outer trappings to probe her thoughts.

Meanwhile she'd enjoy what might be the last party for a few weeks, maybe months—that is, until the boys came back from their stupid War. And she'd get back to the problem of Ashley's love tomorrow, when she had time to think about it. Right now the Tarleton twins were glowering at her from across the room, and—oh no—Scarlett choked on her mint julep. And that nasty Butler man was watching her too.


End file.
